Sacred Reading
It was May. The full flowering of spring had arrived with warm, sunny days. Hope was in the air.
Yet as I opened my Bible reading app, I was filled with fear and trembling.
To be clear, not because I feared the Lord, but because I dreaded to see how many days I was behind in my plan.
It was bad news. I had over 200 chapters to get through in order to get back on track.
Discouraged and demoralized, I forced myself to churn through the pages for the rest of the week. Stuffing my emotions, I read as fast I could to complete the task. Still, I throttled my speed to justify to myself that I had, in fact, ‘read’ the words.
My heart wanted a spiritual accomplishment, not a holy encounter with God.
I wanted to outdo others, not to be transformed.
I wanted to be free of the heavy cloud of guilt and shame from being “behind” on my plan.
Looking back on it, I wonder how tenderly God was looking down on me. I was so close to receiving his care, yet so far away. I was the elder brother, burying myself in the field work, not believing that my father wanted something good for me. I now believe God wanted me to hear, “Son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours” (Luke 15:31).
What do you think? Would it have been better to take time to meditate on those twelve words? Or push myself to finish a Bible reading marathon?
In Eat This Book, Eugene Peterson writes,
What I mean to insist upon is that spiritual writing — Spirit-sourced writing — requires spiritual reading, a reading that honors words as holy, words as a basic means of forming an intricate web of relationships between God and the human, between all things visible and invisible.
There is only one way of reading that is congruent with our Holy Scriptures, writing that trusts in the power of words to penetrate our lives and create truth and beauty and goodness, writing that requires a reader who, in the words of Rainer Maria Rilke, “does not always remain bent over his pages; he often leans back and closes his eyes over a line he has been reading again, and its meaning spreads through his blood.” This is the kind of reading named by our ancestors as lectio divina, often translated “spiritual reading,” reading that enters our souls as food enters our stomachs, spreads through our blood, and becomes holiness and love and wisdom (4).
I’m not an abandoned child, but a beloved son. I don’t need to do anything to get God’s attention. He not only knit me together in love when I was a helpless baby, but he envisioned a blessing upon my life before the foundations of the world (Psalm 139:13, Ephesians 1:4). And now God has made his home in me (Ephesians 3:17).
In our pragmatic world, we often focus on the activity. “Let’s read the Bible!”
Do we sound like Nike? Just Do It!
Or do we sound like Jesus? “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden.”
To put it simply, God’s concern is for the reader.
So in light of the intimacy we have with God, how might we approach the Scriptures?
We’re invited to experience God’s words as a way of hearing our loving Father’s voice.
From what I’ve seen, 2 Timothy 3:16 is often wielded in theological arguments, or to challenge recruits to invest in a demanding program of discipleship, but I think we’re meant to hear it in a different register. Like this:
Our lives are God-breathed.
The Scriptures are God-breathed.
The Word who became flesh dwells among us by the breath of God - the Holy Spirit.
To attend to the Scriptures is to commune with the Trinity. It is a holy occasion to be impressed with God and to be transformed by him. It is a mystery that fills our comprehension with wonder as we marvel at a God who is beyond us and yet with us.
So what’s the alternative to Bible reading plans? In the Grand Tradition of the church, a practice called lectio divina, or sacred reading, developed. Instead of emphasizing efficiency, this practice developed into four stages that prioritize relationship. You can follow them sequentially, but you can also go back and forth between them, in whatever rhythm opens your heart to God.
Read (lectio)
Reflect (meditatio)
Respond (oratio)
Rest (contemplatio)
In the ‘lectio’ or reading section, we read the same passage a few times. We aren’t speeding to the Grand Canyon. We’re already there. We’re admiring the view.
Then, with the words lingering in the air, we meditate on what we’ve heard in the presence of God’s Spirit.
Our tendency is to monitor our performance. Have I meditated long enough? Am I doing it right? Has anyone emailed me? Breathe out. Breathe in. We’re savoring the feast of God’s word. Again and again, God woos our hearts to be with him.
What will happen next? Response. Oratio. It’s inevitable. For, from the depths of himself, God’s word has gone into the depths of our being. And from our transformed hearts, in the presence of God’s Spirit who can interpret even our incoherent grumblings, we proclaim words of praise to God.
I don’t want to sanitize this. The Psalms record the full range of human emotions. God honored all of those prayers by placing them in the Scriptures. You don’t have to sing a hymn (though that’s allowed too). The language of the heart is honest, raw, and visceral.
Finally, if we have the time and space, we enjoy the joy of knowing God (contemplatio). All our hurried strivings to be someone or do something great, to justify our existence, are met with Jesus’ words, “Peace, be still!” Our hearts know that we are beloved.
Sacred reading can be done alone. It can be done in community. It can be done in a prayer closet or an office chair. In the subway or riding a bike.
If you’d like to get started, and if it suits you, you’re invited to join me and the UP Community to spend some time in Psalm 1.
I’ve breathed out the words for you. To my surprise, it took less than a minute.
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Psalm 1 Reading.m4a
You can listen to them read, over and over again. Or you can read them yourself (here’s a link). Or you could invite a friend over and read it to each other.
Once you’re ready, meditate on them. When it’s time, respond to God. You can say anything you want to him - it will be met with tender care. And enjoy.
The Uncommon Pursuit community is here for you.
It’s a relational environment to be transformed for God’s mission. We believe that slow writing is a gift that clarifies our thinking, connects us to one another, and prepares us to be the ‘aroma of Christ’ in every area of life.
If you’d like to participate, you can discuss this essay here:
Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash